Just A Stomach Ache
by elfmaiden4legs
Summary: ****Set after the events of 'You Don't Want To Know'. House suffers the repurcussions of the biopsy performed on him by Thirteen, and calls Wilson in the night. House/Wilson friendship, slightly humerous, slightly fluffy, hurt/comfort!


**Just A Stomach Ache**

**Well here it is, my new House fiction set during 'You Don't Want To Know'. In this House is suffering from the effects of the biopsy performed by Thirteen, and calls Wilson for help in the night. House/Wilson friendship, slight humour, a little fluffy, a little hurt/comfort. I hope you enjoy, and as usual, please don't forget to ****REVIEW****!**

It was the early hours of a weekday morning when Wilson was suddenly woken by a phone call from House – his friend, and colleague – his best friend. He reached for the lamp, and looked at his watch – squinting as the sudden brightness of the light hurt his eyes – before reaching for his mobile on the bedside table to take the call.

"House?" He asked, as he answered. "It's the middle of the night."

His friend's voice spoke out to him on the other end of the line.

"Wilson… I need your help… something's wrong…"

"Is it the leg?" Wilson asked, immediately concerned. It wouldn't be the first time that he'd been called out to his friend's apartment in the middle of the night as a result of his severe leg pain… and it probably wouldn't be the last. He was well accustomed to it…

"No… it's my stomach… the pains really bad…" The older doctor grimaced.

"You woke me up in the middle of the night for a stomach ache?" Wilson sighed, annoyed.

"Wilson, this is a little more than just a stomach ache…" House winced audibly down the phone.

"Then, take some vicodin, and get some sleep. I'm sure you'll feel better by the morning." He advised.

"The vicodin's not working."

"House… it's the middle of the night. I'm not coming out to you."

"Ouch, mommy, it hurts." The older doctor cried out – it was a rather over dramatic gesture, although Wilson detected the edge of discomfort to his tone, suggesting that he was at least for the most part telling the truth.

"I'm not coming out to you House."

"I need something stronger."

"I'm going back to sleep."

"Fine, go back to sleep, but we both know how this is going to turn out."

"I'm hanging up on you House."

"You'll put the phone down on me, then lie awake for the next half an hour imagining all sorts of scenarios playing out over here… whilst I lie awake, suffering… in pain…"

"I'm going back to bed House…"

"I give you an hour tops before you crack."

"Goodnight House."

"Goodnight Wilson."

As Wilson put the phone down however, switching off the lamp and plunging the room into darkness once more he turned over onto his side and attempted to get back to sleep... but his mind started to wonder. His conscious already beginning to prick at him…

'He wasn't going out to House's place this late at night though… he wouldn't be at House's beck and call… that would just reinforce the fact in House's mind that he could call upon Wilson whenever something didn't go right in his life… no matter what time of the day or night…'

But what if he really was sick?

He hadn't looked too healthy earlier that afternoon either, and by the time they'd both come to leave the hospital after their shift had finished that evening he had been looking a little peaky, even slightly pale perhaps.

He's body had been subjected to quite an ordeal that day, his system flooded with potentially contaminated blood, not to mention the narcotics, his reaction to the blood transfusion, and the biopsy… it was bound to have had an effect on him…

… and then it could all potentially be just a simple stomach ache… indigestion, trapped wind, a twenty four hour bug…

'It was just a stomach ache…' he told himself, 'he wasn't getting up this late at night for just a stomach ache…'

Wilson sighed.

"I suppose I'd better go and check on him…" He said to himself, as he threw the duvet from over him and sat up, shivering slightly. He changed quickly, in a blur of frustration… why couldn't he just let House's pleading lie? Why did he always have to interfere? Why did he allow House to wrap him around his little finger…

… but deep down Wilson already knew the answer, House needed him and he couldn't turn his back on that.

Remembering to grab his medical bag and throw it on the back seat of his car before heading for House's flat, he shivered as the cold early morning breeze chilled him to the bone, the icy air biting at his legs and torso. He turned the car radiator up to full blast.

By the time he finally reached House's apartment however his frustration and slight annoyance of before had gradually faded to be replaced by concern for his friend. He let himself in using his key, before switching the sitting room light on, and tossing his keys onto the coffee table as he passed.

"House?" He called.

"I knew you would crack…" He heard his friend mumble from the direction of the bathroom, and immediately made his way in the direction from where he'd heard his voice.

As he pushed the door open however, he wasn't quite prepared for what he saw. House was sat, his back up against the bath, head resting on the toilet boil, pale and sweating.

"Told you it was more than just a stomach ache." House murmured in response to the look of horror on Wilson's face.

"How long have you been like this?" He asked, as he immediately bent down beside his friend. He placed a cool palm against his forehead to check his temperature, before proceeding to roll up his sleeve and placing two fingers against the veins in House's wrist in order to check his pulse.

"It's been getting progressively worse all day…" House sighed. "But worse since we left the hospital."

"Well, your pulse is steady, temperature's normal…" Wilson sighed with relief. "I'd say it's nothing serious. Probably just a result of the biopsy."

"Brilliant diagnosis Doctor." House rolled his eyes sarcastically. "No shit!"

"House, did you call me here to treat you?" Wilson asked. "Or just to whinge about your pain?"

"I brought you here to treat my pain!"

"I'll give you morphine to help with the pain, a hot water bottle will probably help relieve some of the discomfort, and sleeping pills to help you sleep… I'll stay here for tonight." Wilson frowned. "We really need to get you off this floor…"

"I can't…" House groaned however, with some embarrassment. "My leg's seized up!"

Wilson sighed… this was going to be a long night.

An hour later Wilson sat alone in the sitting room, a blanket draped over his knees, and the television on – although the volume was turned down as low as was physically audible so as not to disturb his friend. He'd managed to settle House back in bed, and the slightly older doctor was now sleeping soundly… although he couldn't help but feel resentful of the fact that he was now the one losing sleep, as it now fell to him to sort out the repercussions of somebody else's actions… and not for the first time. This was after all, for once, not House's fault… and he couldn't help but think that it should be House's team here right now dealing with the consequences of their own actions.


End file.
